Never Bet on a Sure Thing
by BotulismFreak
Summary: Acheron finds himself at the local biker bar, Sanctuary, deep in a serious Texas Hold 'em game with a mysterious woman. However, this mysterious woman has a friend,the evil Stryker. What will happen when the three make a friendly bet? Sex included.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own the Dark-Hunter Series. If I did, I'd be rich. Also, Acheron would end up sleeping with every man in the story...**

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Never Bet On a Sure Thing

Chapter 1

"Yo barkeep! Another round!" Acheron shouted, looking at his cards. A pair of queens. Perfect. He studied the woman before him, searching for her tell. What started out as a friendly game of Texas Hold 'em between fellow Dark Hunters, Shifters, and even Daimons had turned frightfully serious as soon as she had joined the game. Once she'd shown up, the four other players had dropped like flies. First to go was Fury, followed by Kyrian, Vane, and the random Daimon stuck at Sanctuary. Now it was just Acheron and the girl.

"Gods, you guys gotta move so I can give 'em their drinks!" one of the Quad shouted, elbowing his way to the table. The crowd of specters parted reluctantly, their eyes riveted on the two at the table. Two bottles of Straubs clinked as the bear set them down. Acheron reached into his pocket for his wallet.

"Thanks man," the woman said, handing the waiter a twenty.

"No prob, V. Let me know if ya want anything stronger, if ya catch my drift."

"Ha. Maybe if I win I'll celebrate with the heavy stuff." Acheron's mouth pulled down in a slight frown. V? What type of name was that? And why was one of the Quad offering her supernatural alcohol? She wasn't human?

"I could've paid for my own drink," He grumbled.

"Eh, my treat. Saves you the trouble of refusing the one from that blonde chick over there." She jerked her head slightly to her right, pointing out a thin blonde in skin-tight clothing.

"What makes you think I'd refuse?"

"My mistake. Feel free to sex her." She threw another thousand dollars worth of chips into the pot. "Call or fold?" What type of hand did this woman have? Acheron sipped his beer, sneaking another glimpse. Was she bluffing? Nothing seemed amiss. No twitching, no change in facial expressions, absolutely nothing. Damn.

"Hey baby, you wanna come home with me afterwards?" a man leered, gripping V's shoulder. His hand slipped lower, resting on her chest. She slapped his hand away. Acheron tensed, preparing for a fight.

"Hey dickhead, why are you covered in beer?"

"Huh, what the fuck? I'm not covered in-" V stood up, dowsing the man with her Straubs. "You little cunt!" he bellowed, storming away. V rolled her eyes, sitting back down in the chair with a thump. The crowd of people hooted and hollered. Wow, that was the seventh man tonight that hit on her. Acheron couldn't blame them. If the circumstances were different, he'd probably try his hand at picking her up. How could he not? She had an aura that screamed sex, but with a hint of 'touch me and die'. Her black hair was cropped short and styled into a fo-hawk, with streaks of sapphire and emerald whispering through it. While her face was surprisingly devoid of makeup, her attire made up for it with its unique gothic flair. A System of a Down t-shirt clung to her curves, highlighting her toned physique while still keeping it feminine. Three studded belts hung about her waist, almost blending seamlessly with the buckles criss-crossing her black pants. She stretched, propping her feet up on the table beside her. Crap, she was even wearing combat boots.

Acheron shifted in his seat. Getting distracted right now wouldn't help his current situation. But Gods, it was so hard not to stare.

"Call, or fold?" she smirked. Damn, why did she have to smirk. All it did was draw attention to her devilish, pixy features. Acheron felt his groin jerk in response. Fuck! Getting hard now wouldn't help at all!

"Call."

Fury dealt the river, revealing another queen. Thank the gods, now he had three of a kind instead of just a pair. He glanced at V again. Nothing. This woman was infuriating. Her level of nonchalance was starting to get on his nerves. She threw even more chips into the pot. God damn it! Acheron took a long drag from his beer.

"So, a little birdie told me you were stealing innocent people's money." Someone teased; sliding into a chair next to V. Acheron looked up and almost choked on his Straubs. Sitting beside V was none other than the Daimon commander, Stryker. The man who was constantly trying to off Acheron and let loose his Daimon armies upon mankind.

"Can it Stryker, I'm busy." V huffed. "Call or check?"

"What? Sorry, I wasn't paying attention."

"Call or check?"

"Oh, uh." Acheron was really thrown for a loop. How did V know Stryker? Was she a Daimon? Endless questions sped through Acheron's head, confusing him even more.

"Come on Vega, give the poor guy some time to decide." Stryker smirked. What the hell was that guy doing here? Wait, her name was Vega? "Jeesh Acheron, you don't need to get your boxers in a bunch. I'm not going to violate the rules of Sanctuary, nor am I going to jump you when you leave." Stryker waved a waiter over, ordering another round of beer.

"Huh?"

"Seriously, you look as if you've been asked to eat shit. I'm on vacation. No evil schemes, I swear." One of the Quad arrived with another round of Straubs. Stryker handed him some bills.

"Look, are we going to finish this game or what?" Vega huffed.

"My, my. No need to be so impatient. I believe you need to call or check Acheron?" Stryker brushed some of his shoulder length raven hair out of his face. He handed a beer to Vega, and then set another in front of Acheron.

The Atlantean scowled, grasping at straws. As a last ditch effort, Acheron focused his mind, looking into the future. He was met with a jolt of electricity that seared his mind. A hiss of pain escaped his lips.

"Sorry buff n'stuff, I'm immune to precog abilities." Vega stretched, causing her shirt to rise slightly, baring her midriff. That was it. Acheron couldn't concentrate any longer. Hell, it wasn't like he was hurting for cash.

"All in." He shoved his piles of chips towards the center of the table. Vega arched her brows, the only hint of surprise he'd seen all night. She nudged the rest of her chips into the pot.

"Show me yours and I'll show you mine?" she husked. If only it wasn't cards. He'd show her something all right. His perverted thought caught him by surprise. Such ideas never idly crossed his mind. He really needed to get a grip and cool down. Acheron tossed his cards to Fury, and drained half his beer in one gulp. It didn't help.

"Three queens," the wolf stated, lining them up with the cards on the table. Vega casually flipped her cards over, revealing a king and ace of hearts. Shit. There was a queen, ten, and jack of hearts on the table.

"Royal Flush of Hearts," Fury called, "Vega wins."

The crowd around the table erupted in applause. She reached over to shake Acheron's hand.

"Good game, buff n' stuff." Acheron raised a brow at the odd nickname. She'd been calling him that all night.

"You know, my name's Acheron," he replied.

"I know, but buff n' stuff suits you much better than a fancy name for Hell."

She knew what his name meant?

"What if I am Hell?"

"Trust me, you're nothing compared to Hell." Judging by her expression, she had experience in that department. "Anyways, Drinks on me everyone! C'mon buff n' stuff, let's get shit-faced! Yo Quad!" Four identical men appeared at her side. "Break out the hard stuff, time to celebrate!" Acheron acceded to her demand, letting her lead him towards the bar.

He couldn't remember how much he'd drunk. Sure, he was coherent, and nothing was wobbling, but everything seemed a bit fuzzy. Also, he was happy. So happy he knew it wasn't normal. Acheron paused, his shot-glass halfway to his mouth. Was he buzzed? He shook his head, downing the shot of "enhanced" vodka. It burned down his throat, sending a shiver down his spine.

"Feeling a slight buzz yet buff n' stuff?" Vega asked, turning towards him. Acheron looked at the woman next to him. A myriad of smutty thoughts assaulted his mind. Yep, something was not normal.

"Any idea how much I've drunk?" he asked, almost giggling. Shit. Giggling? What was he, a school girl?

"Well," she giggled. At least he wasn't the only giddy one. "You and I went through a few cases of beer while playing poker, so that's over 60 between the two of us." She counted something on her fingers. "Then we did body shots, so that was a bunch of mixed alcohol. Plus we had that drinking contest with "special" hard booze. I think it was tequila." She accented the word special with air quotations, drawing his gaze towards his chest. He quickly corrected it. Leather pants weren't very forgiving for a hard on. Acheron shifted slightly in his seat. The air was surprisingly warm all of a sudden.

"Yo Stryker, how many bottles of vodka have we gone through?" She asked the man on her other side.

"Well, that shot Acheron just had makes 7." The commander swirled his whisky, staring at the two of them. "I'm surprised you two haven't pissed yourselves with all the drinks you've had." Acheron almost blushed. He had spent a good five minutes just draining his bladder. He snuck a look at Vega. She seemed extremely intrigued with the contents of her glass. Guess he wasn't the only one with extended bathroom visits.

"I propose a toast!" Vega suddenly shouted, refilling Acheron's glass. "To high metabolisms and the inability to pickle our livers with booze!" All of the shifters in the bar raised their glasses. Thankfully the bar had cleared of humans, since it was almost four in the morning. No one could question the strangeness of the toast.

"Here, here!" Acheron replied, slamming down his portion. Shit, if he kept this up he might actually get drunk. Though it was very hard to do so with his metabolism, it wasn't impossible. After all, he'd drunk well over his weight in booze in under five hours. The bathroom visits alone were enough proof of that. He felt like he'd pissed enough to fill the Nile.

"Hey, buff n' stuff." Vega poked him in the side. It tickled.

"Hmmm?"

"How about a friendly bet?" A evil glint sparkled in her merlot eyes. It fueled his interest.

"What do you have in mind?" he asked. She grabbed a wine bottle from one of the bartenders.

"I bet you that I can take a drink from this wine bottle without breaking it or removing the cork."

"Is that so? And what are the terms of this oh so friendly bet?" Acheron couldn't help it, he smirked.

"A kiss to the count of sixty."

Apparently it was a very friendly bet. Maybe he might be able to take care of his little issue downstairs that was developing into a very serious problem. Yeah, these pants were definitely too tight. Heh, this bet was a sure thing. He'd have no trouble winning it.

"I accept your terms. How about we shake on it?"

"We have a bet then."

They locked hands. Vega snagged the bottle, turned it upside down, and poured vodka into the bowl-shaped bottom. She then proceeded to drink from it, unable to hide her smile of triumph. Acheron couldn't believe it. Vega was so cheating. Oh well, no big deal. It's not like it would be a hardship to kiss her. Quite the contrary. His silver eyes smoldered with anticipation.

"I guess I win, buff n' stuff," she laughed.

"Very well, you'll get your kiss."

"Hah, I wish. However, you made one fatal mistake." Huh? What now? Why did he have a feeling he'd overlooked something crucial? His eyebrows drew together in puzzlement. What could it possibly be?

"Oh babe, I never specified the kiss would be for me."

Oh gods no.

Vega clamored up onto the bar, raising her hands above her head. Acheron's stomach dropped with dread.

"Attention everyone, especially the ladies," she called out. "I am in the possession of a lovely kiss with this young man," she gestured towards him Acheron, "lasting exactly sixty seconds. The bidding starts at three hundred dollars."

Acheron put his face in his hands, resisting the urge to strangle Vega or repeatedly beat his head upon the bar counter. He was going to make her pay…one way or another. Several scenarios played through his mind, many including handcuffs and a lovely, secluded location. Preferably a bed.

"Five hundred!" a woman shouted.

"Five hundred! Do I hear five fifty? Five fifty ladies, this man is worth it! Five fifty! I have five fifty. Let's make it six hundred!"

"I'll give you eight!" another shouted.

"Eight hundred! Come on ladies and gents, this is prime stock! Sixty seconds of pure heaven with a sex god! Eight hundred. Do I have nine?" Geesh, she didn't have to enjoy it so much. Honestly, the woman was practically pimping him out, and she appeared to love every moment of it.

"Ooo, two thousand! I have two grand for a minute smooching with Mr. Delicious here! Do I hear twenty one hundred?"

The betting continued on for a couple more minutes, but for Acheron, it seemed like hours. Gods, the embarrassment! Women were screeching like fan-girls, while all of the men were wolf-whistling and hooting with laughter. He'd never live it down.

"I'll give you ten grand if it'll end the poor man's torment." Stryker drawled, stubbing out a cigarette.

Everyone turned to stare at the commander. Acheron looked up. Fuck. Could things get any worse? A woman he could deal with. But a dude? Sure, he'd been bi-curious. However, it was in the past, and something he wouldn't like everyone and their damned uncle to know about. And with the level of booze in his system, he didn't trust himself not to take things too far. Acheron's judgment was fucked up, and he didn't relish making a spectacle of himself with an audience of people armed with phone cameras.

"Ten grand, going once. Twice. Sold! To the evil twin of Acheron himself!" Vega stepped down from her makeshift podium, plucking a check from Stryker mid-jump. "So buff n' stuff, you going to honor the bet?"

Her taunt was met with a crowd of hollering people jockeying for the best position to watch the show.

"I am a man of my word," Acheron scowled, glowering at Stryker. What the hell was the fucking man thinking? Why would he pay to kiss his rival? Tonight was indeed screwed up.

"Well, I made my bed, and now I have to lie in it," Stryker shrugged, striding over to Acheron. "I'll try not to get you hot and bothered."

"Sorry man, but I don't generally swing that way." The crowd leaned in closer, their anticipation palpable. Stryker reached past Acheron, bracing his hands on the bar and pinning the man against it. He spread the Hunter's legs with his knee, sliding his body up against him. Everyone held their breath. Were they going to go through with it?

Suddenly, Stryker dipped his head, capturing Acheron's lips in a kiss that would scorch hell itself. The bar erupted into a cacophony of screams and laughter. Camera phones flashed, instantly uploading pictures onto facebook and the dark-hunter website .

Stryker snaked his had upwards, fisting his hand in Acheron's long onyx and ruby locks. He titled the man's head back, deepening the kiss. Acheron felt odd. Wherever Stryker touched him erupted into a fire of longing. He shouldn't be feeling like that. Acheron had to bite back a moan as his nemesis deepened the kiss, ruthlessly plundering his mouth. He could feel himself hard and straining against the laces of his pants. Stryker pressed Acheron even closer, expertly rubbing his thigh against Acheron's growing desire and tormenting the Atlantean even further. His eyes flew open and he gasped in surprise.

"That's it, submit." Stryker whispered against his lips.

Like hell he was going to submit to Stryker. Defiantly nipping his lips, Acheron picked the man up, carrying him the ten feet to a pool table nearby. The crowd hurriedly parted to make room. Everyone, including Stryker, gasped as Acheron set the commander on the edge of the pool table. He wrapped one of the Daimon's legs around his waist, erotically rubbing against him. Stryker couldn't help it. He groaned softly.

"I think this is much better, don't you?" Acheron whispered, licking Stryker's bottom lip. The Commander's lips parted, allowing Acheron to wreak havoc. His tongue dove inside, engaging Stryker's in a heated battle for dominance. Stryker squirmed slightly. Acheron took is as a sign, sneaking his hand up the back of the man's shirt while the other rested beneath his chin, tilting his head back for better access. The women around them screamed. One of them fainted.

"And that is sixty seconds exactly," Vega shouted, breaking up the gawking crowd. Acheron pulled away, trying hard not to pant. The little show had done nothing to calm down his ardor. If anything, it had stoked the flame into a raging bonfire.

"Hope you all enjoyed the show," he said, sauntering off towards the bathroom. He may have acted like nothing was amiss, but in truth he was a walking tornado of emotion. His desire and thoughts swarmed together in a ball of confusion. How could another man, his enemy mind you, stir up such a response from him? Sure, Stryker was good looking for a guy, but a man who'd spent a few centuries trying to kill him shouldn't be attractive in the least.

Acheron slammed the bathroom door behind him, stalking over to the sink. He splashed some cold water on his face in an attempt to cool his heated blood. It didn't work. Breathing heavily, he gazed up to confront himself in the mirror and found Stryker's face off to his right. He spun around.

"W-what are you doing here?" he stuttered.

"You seemed a bit off. You ok?" concern flitted across the commander's face. Acheron blinked, thinking it was a trick of the light.

"Yeah, just peachy." Zeus, please don't let him see my hard on. Please of please have some mercy for me. Apparently, Zeus wasn't listening to his prayer.

"You don't seem fine to me," Stryker husked, approaching the Hunter "In fact, I'd say you're a bit frustrated." He rested his hand on the fall of Acheron's pants, brushing his aching member gently. Acheron attempted to stifle his moan, but to no avail. He burned. Oh how he burned. Would he ever get relief? He leaned against the sink, bracing his hands on each side of him as his knees threatened to give out under him. Gods above, it felt incredible. He wanted, no needed, more.

Sensing his desperation, Stryker pressed up against him, pressing his lips against Acheron's mouth in a demanding kiss. He gave in, groaning as Stryker thrust his tongue deep inside his mouth. Acheron clutched at his enemy's back, trying to stay upright while he was assaulted with wave after wave of crippling pleasure. Stryker gripped his Acheron's ass, grinding his groin against his own. It was almost too much for Acheron to bear. The Daimon broke the kiss, gasping for air.

"That's right, I'm hot for you too," he panted.

"I-I don't understand…" Acheron managed between breaths.

"I'll show you."

The two men disappeared from the bathroom in a flash of blinding light.

Vega smiled as she sensed Stryker teleporting himself and Acheron to his rental house. Mission accomplished. Stryker deserved to have some fun. He had been mourning the lost of his life partner, Trates, for too long. It was good to see him interested in a man again. She had arranged this evening for his sole benefit. It's not like she needed money, even though she managed to make a pretty penny tonight, well she had spent all of her poker winnings on booze for everyone, but she had made ten grand.

Still smiling, she glanced at the check in her hands. She'd cash it when the bank opened and make a large donation to the homeless shelter. Maybe she'd check on the two lovebirds afterwards. Shaking her head, she grabbed her jacket off the barstool next to her and left Sanctuary.

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**So tell me what you think! Please comment, since I would like some opinions so I have a general idea of what you would like to see in the next, and final, chapter. Expect a story soon with some drunken romance between Julian and Kyrian, as well as a lovely story between Acheron and Vega...he's only temporarily gay folks! The straight woman in me can't allow him to be gay for an extended period of time. Let me know what ya think!**

**-BotulismFreak  
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	2. Chapter 2

**WARNING: This story contains nothing but sex, seasoned with a few funny moments.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything remotely involved with the Dark-Hunter series, except this plot-line, and my own character, Vega. If I did own it, it would be much more raunchy.  
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Never Bet on a Sure Thing

Chapter 2

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Acheron fell, disoriented, onto a staircase. At least he thought it was a staircase. Judging by the odd ledges digging into his back at even intervals, he was willing to bet a hefty sum on stairs. He let out a hiss of pain as something large materialized on top of him, causing the ledges to dig in deeper. Oh yeah. Definitely on stairs.

"Well, that was a complete fail on my part," Stryker grumbled, moving so he no longer crushed the Dark Hunter. "Terribly sorry about that. We were supposed to end up in my bedroom." Acheron couldn't suppress his laugh. Really, the guy had years to learn how to use his powers, and he couldn't teleport properly? Stryker glared at him menacingly, the effect intensified by the predawn light. "I will make you pay for that."

"Oooo, I'm just quaking in my boots," Acheron managed between laughs. The Daimon's little mistake had just squashed any hope of an immediate romantic tryst. He was laughing so hard, he was almost pissing himself. "You really know how to set the mood, don't you General?"

"That's it! Revenge starts now, pretty boy." Stryker kicked Acheron's legs apart, spreading them against the two metal handrails. The steel steps clanked sharply as he moved upwards, settling himself between the other man's thighs. Acheron splayed his hands across Stryker's chest, trying to shove him off. The steps were very unforgiving, cutting mercilessly into his back.

"You can't be serious. We are NOT doing this on the steps," he gasped, trying to get the upper hand. Stryker leaned more of his weight onto him, causing the metal planks to dig deeper. Acheron winced. Why did the man have to have an industrial style staircase? He should kill whoever thought steel steps were a good idea.

"I think I like this position…" Stryker smirked, grabbing Acheron's wrists and pinning them above his head. "So many….possibilities." The General raked a hungry stare over the Atlantean, causing the warrior to struggle even more. He twisted, then whimpered softly as his arms were stretched further above his head, his wrists and elbows screaming in agony as they met the steps' cruel edge. He stared defiantly up at Stryker. No way in Hell was he going to put up with this shit.

Stryker met the man's rebellious gaze. Ah, he loved the spark he saw there. It was going to be a sinful delight breaking him down into a craven beast. He could already hear Acheron's tortured moans and desperate pleas for release. Feel him squirming underneath him as he drove him closer and closer to nirvana, teasing him until he was mad with need. It was going to be a wonderful day.

Acheron was livid. He had no control over the situation. When he tried to access his powers he found them blocked, as if Stryker had somehow bound them.

"That's right. You can't escape…" Stryker whispered against his ear. Acheron huffed in exasperation. The Daimon seized the opportunity, violently assaulting the Hunter's lips with a possessive kiss.

Acheron couldn't figure out what was going on. Torn between anger and raging desire, he couldn't decide whether to fight or give in like a wanton whore. He settled for both, nipping Stryker's tongue and taking control of the kiss. The General growled in response, meeting the Atlantean blow for blow in a heated battle for dominance. Turned on once more, Acheron wrapped his leg around Stryker's waist, pulling him against his growing desire. He groaned on contact, breaking the kiss and biting his lip as Stryker masterfully ground his hips against him.

The Daimon continued his attack, nibbling his way down the Atlantean's neck until he reached the top of his t-shirt. Wrapped in ecstasy, Acheron threw his head back; allowing Stryker even greater access for his torments. Pissed at the thick black fabric blocking his way, he reached behind himself and pulled his dagger from the sheath on the small of his back. Without halting his ministrations, he slid the blade under Acheron's shirt, deftly cutting the t-shirt up the middle.

Acheron froze when he felt the blade slide along his torso, his eyes flashing red as the cool metal unearthed memories from his past. He let out a roar of anguish, thrashing violently against Stryker.

"Easy there," Stryker shushed, sheathing the blade. "See? No harm done. I'm not going to cut you, I promise." Making sure his grip on the Hunter's wrists was firm, Stryker continued to whisper softly, as if Acheron were a spooked stallion. Obviously, the man had an issue with blades. Still cooing, Stryker lightly ran his hand up the Hunter's stomach, eyebrows rising in surprise when he encountered the tough scar tissue. He ripped the rest of the t-shirt away, almost wincing when he found a two inch wide scar running from the man's navel to his breastbone. Someone had tried to disembowel him. No wonder he had a blade sensitivity.

Stryker gently stroked Acheron's chest, patiently waiting for him to calm down. When his eyes flashed back to silver, Stryker leaned towards him, his mouth hovering millimeters above the Hunter's.

"Better now?" he husked, running his finger along Acheron's jaw. The Atlantean managed to nod. "Good."

Stryker leaned back, allowing the Atlantean to recover from his episode while planning his next move. He needed both hands for his idea, meaning he'd need another way to keep Acheron's wrists bound together. His eyes landed on the ripped remains of the shirt. Perfect.

Acheron gazed up at Stryker, thoroughly confused. He couldn't figure out why this man, his sworn enemy, pulled a dagger and hadn't used it on him. Well, other than for cutting off his shirt but…crap. He'd ruined everything by throwing a fit. He would kick himself for his stupid reaction, if he were able to. Honestly, it'd been centuries since the deal with the almost disembowelment. He should be over it by now. Oh well. No use mentally raging about it. The mood was probably lost now.

Coming out of his tirade, Acheron was met with a sight that would make anyone hot. Stryker gripped the t-shirt remains with his free hand, using his teeth to slowly rip a strip from the dark cloth. Acheron bit back a moan at the sight. What the hell was wrong with him lately? He should be thinking the man was an animal…not sexy!

Chuckling darkly, the General tossed the rest of the ruined fabric up the last few steps and onto the landing. Taking the thick strip of cotton from his mouth, Stryker reached upwards and deftly bound Acheron's wrists together; taking care to make sure he wasn't cutting off the man's circulation. He gave the knot a quick tug to check its strength. That taken care of, he ghosted his hands down the Hunter's arms, stopping to tilt his head back for a heart-stopping kiss.

Acheron couldn't tell up from down as his body was assaulted with sensation from all sides. Stryker's hard, ropy heat pressed on him from above, crushing him against the icy steps. Those same steps bit into his exposed back, sending sharp stabs of pain through his body in addition to the pins and needles sensation coming from his bound wrists. The heady mixture of pain and pleasure crippled the Atlantean with desire. Practically begging, he pressed closer to the General; licking the other man's bottom lip in a silent plea for more.

Stryker acceded to Acheron's wishes, expertly slipping his tongue between the Atlantean's fangs to deepen the kiss. He stroked the Hunter's mouth, spurring his passion onwards until he hardened even more. Acheron whimpered in agony, desperate to free himself from the constricting leather, but unable to do so.

Delighted by Acheron's sounds of pleasure, Stryker continued with his "evil" plan. Running a hand down the Hunter's chest, he paused at the waistband of his pants. He trailed his hand across the fall of his trousers, feeling him twitch against the laces. Acheron broke of the kiss with a gasp, arching his back in response to Stryker's feather-light touch. Moving his attention to the Atlantean's neck, he licked a line down the column of his throat, gently nipping his collarbone while loosening the laces and plunging his hand into their depths. Stryker followed the line of curls downwards until he found Acheron's throbbing desire. He could feel the laces digging into the Hunter's manhood. Jesus, the man certainly needed bigger pants. Finally free, Acheron's erection spilled into Stryker's hand. The Daimon's eyes widened in surprise. He knew the Atlantean wasn't small by any means, but damn. It was _huge._ No wonder his pants had been so uncomfortable. Sliding his hand down his shaft, Stryker tried to judge how big Acheron really was, glad his plans didn't involve him having to accommodate such a large member. He was definitely topping. If he didn't, he had a feeling he wasn't going to be able to walk afterwards.

Choking out a moan, Acheron thrust into Stryker's hand, desperate for release. His body was on fire. Worst of all he couldn't do anything about it, his hands uselessly bound above his head. Grinding his teeth in frustration, the Hunter tried his best not to groan as Stryker worked his way down his chest; blazing a path with his tongue. All the while the Daimon's hand molested his shaft, stroking it from hilt to tip.

Stryker traced the outline of Acheron's abs with his tongue, swirling it around his navel before moving on downwards. The Atlantean hitched his breath in anticipation as the General's breath blew across his shaft.

"So you _are_ a natural blonde," Stryker laughed, face to face with the evidence. "Hmmm, I wonder…" Acheron felt something unnatural ripple through his hair. "Stunning," he whispered, "Absolutely stunning."

What a sight to behold. Speechless, Stryker gazed upon the man before him; restored to his natural looks. The early morning sun glinted off of Acheron's natural golden locks, causing his eyes to flare an unnatural mercury. His silken tresses framed his face, a few strands falling across his aristocratic features and softening his strong jaw. Gods. The image before him burdened him with unbridled desire.

Acheron shivered when he met Stryker's lustful gaze. The man's haunting blue eyes raked over his body, a predator sizing up its prey. A devilish smirk spread across the Daimon's face. Faster than a bolt hole, Stryker shucked off the Hunter's leather pants; growling when they caught on his leather combat boots. Who the fuck in their right mind wore boots that laced up to the knee? There wasn't even a convenient zipper on the side. Well screw that then.

Stryker reached for his trusty blade once more, wedging it under the bootlaces and sawing through. With one swift tug he removed the offending items, tossing them over the railing. The bundle hit the floor with a muffled thud. Stryker sheathed his blade, satisfied with his work. Turning his attention back towards the blonde, the General kneeled a few steps down from Acheron's groin; wondering where he should start.

Pinning the Atlantean's hips with his hands, Stryker licked a line from hilt to tip; running his tongue along the slit. A deep groan rumbled from the blonde, dissolving in breathy pants as he writhed beneath the Daimon. Stryker moaned at the salty taste of him, the vibration tormenting Acheron even more. After a few more licks, Stryker went all the way down; deep-throating the blond, his nose buried in a web of golden curls.

Stryker alternated between tactics, swirling his tongue around his shaft; occasionally taking all of him in his mouth. Damn, the man was almost too big. Any other guy, and he would deep-throat the whole time. But Acheron was so large that he was dangerously close to choking. Literally. Pinning the Hunter's hips under his forearm and elbow, Stryker freed one hand; using it to gently massage Acheron's sack.

It drove the Atlantean over the edge.

"Stryker, I-" Acheron came fiercely, his warning turning into a hoarse cry as he arched against him. Stryker swallowed, giving a final lick to make sure he got everything. He crawled up the blonde, causing him to suck in a breath as the rough fabric of his shirt rubbed against the Atlantean's chest.

"Hmm, still a little sensitive are we?" Stryker chuckled. Acheron's face burned with shame. He'd barely lasted over five minutes as soon as the Daimon had gone down on him. Usually he had much more endurance. Stryker slid a hand across Acheron's slick chest, idly circling a finger around his taunt nipple. The Hunter grit his teeth, determined to let no sound escape. "I'll take that as a yes then."

Fisting a hand in Acheron's sunny locks, Stryker delivered the sweetest of kisses upon his lips; shocking the blonde into arousal. The stark contrast from rough to sweet sent a fire roaring through him, gathering at his groin. The Daimon gently probed Acheron's lips with his tongue, asking for permission. They parted slightly, allowing him to proceed with his tender yet relentless exploration. Acheron could taste himself and the General at the same time, whipping his passion into a frenzy as the Daimon softly caressed his tongue with his own. Fisting his bound hands in the cloth of Stryker's shirt, Acheron gave a rough tug. Realizing the blonde's problem Stryker undid the buttons of his shirt, shrugging out of the oxford without breaking the scorching-sweet kiss.

"I think you're ready," Stryker broke the gentle caress.

"What?"

A small bottle with a triple x logo appeared in the General's hand. Stryker popped the top, generously coating his index finger with the cool liquid. Spreading the Hunter's legs wider, he rested his finger upon Acheron's opening. He went still beneath him.

"Oh no. You are _not_ topping," Acheron growled. On his few escapades with men, he had _never_ been on bottom. In fact, all three of the men had begged for him to be on top; wanting to feel his generous length inside them.

"Oh, but I am. Deal with it, pretty boy."

"But I—ugh!" Acheron was cut off by Stryker worming his finger inside of him. The General frowned in annoyance. Gods he was so tight. It was never going to work unless he relaxed. Honestly, he was acting like a virg—oh shit. Stryker quickly glanced up, finding Acheron covering his face with his bound hands, smothering a sob. He quickly removed his finger, reaching upwards to untie the blonde's wrists. He didn't want to rape the poor guy. He carefully pried Acheron's hands away, crystal tears dripping from his lashes. Damn, he could even make crying beautiful.

"Look at me," Acheron's eyes remained glued to the railing, his arms limp at his sides. Stryker softly caressed the side of his face, slowly turning the Hunter's head. "C'mon, look at me Acheron." Acheron raised his eyes, meeting his with wounded stare. Looks like he'd won the award for biggest ass on the planet. Whoopie.

"I've never been on bottom before," he choked out.

"I'm sorry, I never realized…"

"You didn't ask." Stryker looked away, unable to endure his accusatory glare.

"I—I'll take it slow. Okay?"

"What? You're _still_ going to take top?" Acheron asked in disbelief.

"Hey, better late than never in your case. I promise I'll be gentle," Stryker emphasized it with a delicate kiss.

"Fine," Acheron huffed. Stryker picked up where he left off, making sure to liberally apply lubricant to his finger and the Hunter's opening. Patiently, Stryker traced the rim of Acheron's portal, warming up the lube while giving the blonde time to adjust to the sensation. Once he seemed comfortable, Stryker slowly slipped his fingertip inside, pausing as Acheron immediately tensed up; his hands gripping the Daimon's shoulders.

"Shhh, relax," he soothed, lightly kissing him on the lips. A few seconds later, Stryker felt the muscles around his finger loosen. Carefully, he continued, completely inserting his finger. Acheron shifted slightly at the alien feeling of having Stryker's appendage inside of him. It wasn't so bad, but it was certainly odd.

Stryker rotated his finger, probing Acheron's inner walls. The Atlantean moaned softly at the intimate caress, a strange tingle running through him. Satisfied with his response, Stryker coated another finger and slipped it inside. The blonde hissed sharply, clamping down once again upon the Daimon's fingers.

Ignoring the nails digging into his back, Stryker waited a second time for Acheron to adjust; clenching his jaw while he squirmed beneath him. The last thing the both of them needed was for him to get carried away. He'd end up hurting the damned man. Finally, he got what he'd been waiting for. Acheron rocked against his hand, whimpering with need.

Stryker gently explored Acheron's inner sanctuary, scissoring his fingers every once in a while to stretch him. The Atlantean gave in to the pleasure, bucking against his hand as he rubbed against his walls. Suddenly, the blonde threw his head back; groaning deep in his throat as Stryker's fingers touched a certain spot. Hah. He'd found it.

Undoing his fly, Stryker sighed in relief as his erection was freed from his pants. He applied ample amounts of the lube, gasping as the cold liquid touched his hot shaft. Spreading the blonde's legs wider, he positioned himself at his entrance; spreading his fingers as wide as they would go. With one smooth thrust, he was inside.

"Ah! Ow! Ow! Ow!" Acheron cried, his face contorted in agony. He felt as if he were being split in two, impaled upon the unforgiving hardness of Stryker's manhood. Blinded by pain, Acheron bit his lip, bringing forth the metallic tang of blood.

Stryker rested his head upon the Atlantean's chest, trying hard not to moan at the feel of his tight heat. It just seemed inconsiderate. His breath ragged, he waited for the blonde. He may not be as big as Acheron, but he was still a considerable size above average. After a few moments, the pain ripping through Acheron's body began to recede; leaving in its wake an unfamiliar warmness. It was…soothing.

The General felt Acheron melt beneath him, his breathing deep and even. He almost smiled at the blissful expression adorning the blonde's face. However, that wasn't what he wanted right now. No, he wanted to make the Hunter scream with pleasure. Fraught with a need so intense, he was blind to anything else.

Stryker slowly pulled out, then rocked forward in a leisurely caress. Acheron moaned, meeting the Daimon's thrust halfway; his nails scoring down the General's back. A few more sinfully slow strokes and Stryker switched position, roughly tossing one of Acheron's legs partly over his shoulder to allow deeper penetration. Crushing the Blonde against the steps he thrust into him forcefully, jarring that "special" spot he'd found earlier.

The Atlantean screamed, stars bursting across his vision as his body raged with a ceaseless inferno of pleasure. He threw his other leg around Stryker, pulling him closer and pressing his erection between them.

"M—more," he begged, "Please….more." Well now, being a gentleman he couldn't refuse such a request. Stryker continued his methodic, maddeningly slow pace, pumping Acheron's member in time with his thrusts. Acheron could barely breathe as that secret spot inside him was hit again and again, driving him crazy with a need so intense that Stryker's stupidly considerate pace couldn't satisfy. "Faster," he gasped.

"Not for your first time," the Daimon grunted, continuing his frustrating pace. God damn that fucking man. Couldn't he see that he didn't give a rat's ass how much it hurt later? He wanted a good, hard fuck, and he wanted it _NOW!_ Pissed to the point of no return, Acheron yanked the General towards him; stopping the agonizingly polite thrusts.

"God damn it Stryker! I want you to fuck me hard and dirty and I want you to do it RIGHT NOW!" he commanded, staring into the Daimon's eyes like a crazed she-wolf.

"But—"

"NOW STRYKER! Forget the jerking off and all that other shit! FUCK ME DAMMIT!" Acheron shouted, then sank his teeth into the General's shoulder. Stryker let out a hiss of pain, hardening even more as the Atlantean's fangs bit deeper. Fine, if he wanted to play rough, he'd give him rough. Throwing the blonde against the steps Stryker quickened his pace; harder and deeper with every violent stroke.

Craven with unbridled lust, Acheron raked his teeth across the Daimon's shoulder, urging him onwards into an animalistic pace that smashed Acheron against the metal steps. It wasn't soon before the steps gave their due, tearing the Atlantean's back to shreds. The warm, sticky life-blood trickled down his spine, gathering into crimson puddles on the steps and dripping off the sides. Acheron didn't care. He wanted, no needed release.

"Harder!" he cried, feeling the passion mounting into an uncontrollable tsunami; poised to crash at any moment. "Oh gods, harder!"

Growling with fury, Stryker pushed Acheron back onto the steps; pinning him there with a hand on his sternum. The fucking blonde had hell to pay for biting him like that. Still slamming into Acheron at an inhuman pace, he tore into the Hunter's chest; creating an abstract design of bloody hickeys.

The rich mixture of pleasure and pain became too much to bear, catapulting Acheron into an orgasm capable of destroying the foundations of Mount Olympus. His seed spattered across their chests and stomachs, leeching into the crimson pools on the steps in swirling patterns of white. Wave after wave of pleasure rocked through the blonde, stripping him bare.

A groan rumbled deep in Stryker's chest as Acheron's tight heat clamped down around his member, milking him for all he was worth. He managed one more deep thrust, sheathing himself to the hilt before giving in to the velvety vise. The Hunter moaned at Stryker's release, the Daimon's hot juices setting fire to his passions once more. He huffed in frustration as Stryker withdrew, leaving a hollow feeling in his wake.

His lust not even close to satisfied, Acheron flipped Stryker over, straddling his hips. Stryker gazed upwards at the battered blonde, his hand tracing the pattern of bruises on his chest. Acheron captured his hand, brought it to his lips and slowly sucked on the tip of his finger. The General bit his lip at the terribly sexy sight, sliding his other hand around Acheron's hip to offer him support and keep him from falling down the stairs. He stopped dead as his hand encountered torn flesh. He snatched it back, finding it drenched in ruby blood.

"Holy fuck." Stryker spun the blonde around, coming face to face with the steps' revenge. He should've ignored Acheron's demands and taken it slow. Cursing his stupidity he stood, gathering the Hunter in his arms.

"Hey, what're you doing?" he exclaimed, squirming in his grasp. He ended up caged in the Daimon's arms, stuck in an awkward bridal-style hold.

"I am going to clean us up, then put something on that piece of hamburg that was once your back," Stryker hushed. He tried to step forward, but was foiled by his pants, now gathered about his ankles. Kicking off his shoes, he stepped out of the ruined jeans; letting the unnecessary clothing fall down the stairs in a rumpled heap. No longer impeded, he ascended the five remaining stairs, walking across the concrete landing and into the master bedroom. He proceeded past the king sized bed and sleek frame, kicking open another door and setting Acheron down on a large countertop.

Shivering as his arse met the cold stone, Acheron looked about, finding himself in a rather spacious modern bathroom. An enormous Jacuzzi tub dominated a corner of the room, sharing a wall with a large glass shower with multiple jets. A double sink vanity resided below him, with a toilet to his right.

Stryker yanked open the door to the shower, punching numbers into a keypad to start the spray. Setting the temperature at 90 degrees, he flipped through the options menu until he found the jet combo he wanted. The harsh spray slid into a soft rain shower, with certain tile-jets angling towards the center. A sluggish waterfall crested out of a ledge above the teak bench, slipping through the slats of the rich, dark wood. Satisfied with the adjustments, Stryker closed the door and focused his attention where it belonged…his injured lover.

Reaching behind the blonde, Stryker pressed a button beneath the mirrored wall above the vanity. The glass slid back with a crisp woosh, revealing a well stocked and rather large medicine cabinet. After some rummaging, he produced a roll of paper towels, peroxide, a tube of Neosporin, and a box of gauze.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up,"

Towels in hand, Stryker carefully blotted away the rivulets of blood; uncovering six parallel, ragged gashes. Setting down a square of towels, he brushed aside Acheron's metallic locks and drenched his back with peroxide.

"Fuck! That stings,"

Hissing and popping, the disinfectant bubbled up in the cuts; giving the impression of Alka-Seltzer. When the fizzing performance ended, Stryker mopped up Acheron's back once more then disposed of the soggy paper in a trash chute next to the toilet.

"_Your shower is ready._"

Acheron looked up, confused by the sterile feminine voice.

"It's the shower." Stryker responded, "Well, let's get in."

"As in, the two of us?"

"No. You take a shower. I'm going to scrub down in the kitchen sink." He grumbled. "Of course I'm going to get in with you. Now move."

Acheron snorted, valiantly attempting to smother a laugh. The picture of the General sitting in a sink running through his mind. Sighing with impatience, Stryker strode over to the shower, holding the door open and gesturing for Acheron to get in. Rolling his eyes, the Atlantean stepped into the slate-tiled stall, hissing as the gentle stream ran over his back. Stryker slipped in after him, the door swinging closed with a snick.

Stryker hardened instantly. How could he not? A scant three feet in front of him stood an ancient warrior, injured from "battle" so to speak. The stripes of raw wounds on his back oozed a masculinity heightened by the smattering of bruises adorning his front. Water from all angles cascaded down his body, turning his hair to liquid light and flowing down his taunt muscles. To top it all off, his lips, bruised from rough kisses, parted in a satisfied sigh. Gods, he wanted to take him again, right in the shower.

A devious plan percolating, Stryker snatched a cloth and soap from a shelf, squeezing the viscous goo from the bottle. Working it into a lather, he rubbed the sudsy cloth across Acheron's broad back. Eyes snapping open in surprise, Acheron glanced over his shoulder.

"I can wash myself,"

"I'm well aware of that. However, this way's more fun." Stryker teased, pulling the blonde into his embrace. He began to run the cloth in small, sensuous circles, taking care when he encountered the Hunter's wounds.

Acheron turned to face his sudsy attacker, causing the rough cloth to trail down his front. A small moan escaped his lips as it lightly caressed his groin, his cock jumping to attention; ready for whatever the General had in mind.

Stryker felt the Hunter's eager response burning like a brand against his hip. A knowing smile gracing his lips, he draped the slick facecloth over Acheron's growing desire. Wrapping his hand around the man's shaft, he slid his palm from base to tip; the cloth beneath his hand leaving behind a trail of sandalwood-scented suds.

Acheron's head spun at the unique feel of terrycloth rubbing against his erection. He frowned in protest when it traveled away, but its absence was soon replaced with the Daimon's hand. Well now, he couldn't argue with that. The simple movement with cloth now seemed inadequate compared to the General's honed skills. Dexterous strokes paired with torturous caresses at the tip spurred Acheron's lust onward, transforming him into a bloodthirsty berserker. Unable to stand it any longer, he boldly captured Stryker's lips, splitting their seam with his tongue.

A rich groan rumbled through Stryker's chest as the blonde forced entrance, tearing down all hope of resistance with his masterful ministrations. What started as a well fortified attack turned into a terrible rout when Acheron fisted his hands in his raven locks, working a crisp smelling shampoo into its tangled mass. The foaming massage threw Stryker's caution to the wind. He wanted the damned Atlantean, and by all means he was going to have him again. No matter how sore his lover was going to be in the evening. Backing them towards the bench, he sat down; pulling the blonde onto his lap. Reaching for the soap on the shelf, he covered two of his fingers in the thick substance, and then slipped them inside the man's tight heat without warning.

"S-stryker, I don't—ah!" Acheron gasped, silenced by a torrent of pleasure as Stryker caressed his special spot. The slight sting of the soap heightened the sensation…gods he needed more. Spreading his legs, he straddled the General thighs, kneeling on the bench. Bracing his hands on the man's shoulders, he leaned back; taking even more inside.

Stryker scissored his fingers, re-stretching the Atlantean. Even though they'd had sex earlier, he was beginning to tighten up again. Propping himself against the wall of water, he angled his hand, allowing deeper penetration. The man squirmed, bucking into his palm.

"I need you…now Stryker. All of you," Acheron breathed, spreading his legs further. He snatched the soap off the bench, spreading a healthy amount on Stryker's burning desire. Stryker hissed on contact, the cool soap sending an urgent message up his spine. Take him.

Without delay, the General pulled his fingers from Acheron's portal, gripped his hips, and impaled him upon his manhood. The two men moaned in unison, incoherent with rampant desire. Acheron rocked forward, pushing Stryker into the waterfall as he plundered his mouth once again.

Acheron's body slid down Stryker's shaft in a tight, satin caress. Paralyzed with unbridled lust, he couldn't object as he was thrown into the waterfall and kissed blind. All the while, torrents of water cascaded down the two, rinsing the stubborn suds from their bodies. So much for getting clean.

Rising up on his knees, Acheron slammed himself down once more, taking Stryker in all the way. Still, he couldn't hit that damned spot. Why? Frowning against Stryker's lips, he repeated his former action at a slightly different angle. It yielded the same result. Scowling in frustration, he tried once more and was rewarded with mocking laughter.

"Searching for something?"

Acheron met the Daimon's eyes with a glare. It was obvious what he wanted.

"Well?"

Oh no way in hell was he making him ask for it.

"I won't know unless you tell me," Stryker trailed his hand down Acheron's side, raking his fingers lightly through the blonde curls at his hilt. He ran his finger up the Hunter's throbbing length. "I'm already inside of you, so do you want some attention here?"

Acheron sucked in a breath as the Daimon molested his shaft. It put him in quite a predicament. Should he back onto Stryker's dick or thrust into his hand? The damned General was helping the situation, wrapping his hand around his girth and slowly pumping away. Acheron shook his head, deciding the jerk-off just wasn't enough.

"Oh? Not what you're looking for? Then what do you want?"

Gods, he was going to have to say it.

"D-deeper," he mumbled, a blush creeping across his cheeks.

Stryker couldn't suppress a smirk at the sight. Mr. Buff n' stuff, "I'm the man," leader of the Dark-Hunters was blushing. The faint rose color adorning his cheeks gave him an innocent air, going perfectly with his battered appearance and honey-gold hair. Gods he loved it.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you. What did you want?"

Acheron's cheeks burned a deeper red.

"I-I want you to …to hit…that spot…again," he muttered, his entire face flaming with embarrassment. Unable to meet Stryker's knowing gaze, he ducked his head down, wishing his hair wasn't slicked back so it could hide his shame.

Stryker thought it wasn't possible, but his cock managed to harden even more from Acheron's bashful behavior. Gods the man was so fucking cute. Who knew the tough warrior was capable of blushing like a schoolgirl? Struck dumb by this astonishing development, he hadn't heard what the Hunter asked.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?"

Acheron buried his face against Stryker's shoulder. He was going to have to say it again? Really? Could the situation get any worse? To make things even better, something warm and sticky was running down his face. Something that smelt faintly of iron…almost like…

Realization dawning, Acheron pulled back to find two deep, three inch long, symmetrical gashes upon Stryker's shoulder. Spaced evenly apart their whole length, it looked as if someone had bitten him, then drug their fangs…shit. Looked like he'd left his mark.

"You're bleeding," he whispered, gently probing at the wounds to check their depth. The ragged cuts looked raw against the tawny skin of Stryker's shoulder, the blood diluted to an opaque pink from the waterfall. "I'm…I'm so sorry I did that."

Stryker looked down at Acheron, finding an odd mixture of horror and self-disgust scrawled upon his face. Damn. He really liked the blushing blonde routine. The last thing he wanted was guilt ruining the moment.

"Hey," he husked "You still didn't tell me what you said earlier." Stryker cradled Acheron's chin in his hand, tilting the blonde's face upwards. Held fast in the General's firm, but gentle, grip, the Atlantean had no choice but to meet his gaze. As soon as he did, all thoughts of Stryker's torn shoulder evaporated. He blushed furiously when he met those steely eyes, knowing all too well what they demanded. Gods he didn't want to say it again.

"Well?" the Daimon prodded.

"I-I…." Acheron lowered his eyes, peeking up at the general through a fringe of golden lashes.

"You what?"

"I…want you…to h-hit that…spot…..again…" he managed, turning his head to face the wall beside them. Suddenly unsure of himself Acheron bit his lower lip, afraid that Stryker would burst into degrading laughter at any moment. His hand unconsciously came up to cover his mouth in embarrassment.

"Is that all?" Stryker asked, prying the blonde's fingers away from his lips. "Cuz I'm more than happy to oblige."

"Wha—oof!"

Dizzy, Acheron tried to make sense of his new position. Bent over the teak, he found himself almost on all fours before the General. How humiliating. Gripping the edge with one hand, he braced his other palm on the floor; trying to get back up. He was not going to take it like some bitch on all fours.

However, Stryker had other plans. Spreading the Hunter's legs into a perfect v, he settled himself right behind his well toned ass. Pushing the blonde back onto the bench with a hand on his back, he rammed himself inside; jarring his sweet spot dead center. Acheron cried out in complete bliss, his vain attempts at getting to his feet forgotten.

"That what you wanted?" Stryker panted.

"Mmph…yes….more…" Acheron arched his hips upwards, taking the rest of the General inside of him. Stryker sucked in a moan at the feel of himself sinking deeper into the Atlantean's tight heat. The man's silken walls clamping around his shaft made his vision blur around the edges, almost blinding him with pleasure.

"Your wish is my command." Gripping the blonde's hips with both hands he pulled out sharply, quickly slamming into Acheron again. He screamed like a man burning alive, his deep voice cracking towards the end. Stryker instantly stilled. "You ok?"

"Don't stop dammit!" he shouted back, furious that Stryker was so fucking considerate. Gods he needed him to free him from his cage of wanton need, tear down the bars with his harsh caress. He started it, now he was responsible for finishing it.

Shocked into action, Stryker began the primal dance of push and pull, the blonde meeting him stroke for stroke. Drunk on the mixture of complete humiliation mixed with the height of pleasure, Acheron felt the fire within him build until he became consumed by the hungry flames. He burst suddenly, his milky seed coating the edge of the bench and dripping down his thigh. But Stryker wasn't finished with him yet.

Yanking the Hunter up by the hair, he shoved him against the slate wall next to the door. Acheron's back hit the keypad.

_"Steam shower, activated."_

The maddening drizzle from all directions transformed instantly into a fine mist, coating them with glistening droplets of dew. His eyes glazed with passion, Acheron's battered lips parted in a silent plea. Stryker covered them with his own, making the blonde erect once more with his ruthless assault. Three more brutal thrusts down below and the Hunter erupted, his inner walls clamping down like a velvety vise as he coated them both with his juices.

Still, Stryker would not cease. He wanted to make Acheron cum one more time before he reached his release. But not against the wall. An idea forming, he spun the blonde around and crushed him face first into the glass wall of the shower. The Hunter hissed as his front made contact with the cool surface, his body sandwiched between walls of ice and fire. Stryker snatched the Atlantean's wrists in one hand, locking them in an iron grip above his head once more. The General entered him from behind in one smooth thrust.

"…no…no…" Acheron moaned, silver eyes fixated on the mirror before the shower. He couldn't bear the image it reflected. There he was, a submissive bitch held captive against the glass, his sworn enemy owning him in a wild display of dominance. The once proud hunter turned his head away in shame.

"No? You mean you don't like it when I do this?" Stryker snapped his hips foreword, jarring that damned spot. Acheron couldn't believe it. Like a fucking nympho his cock leapt up, ready for the next round. The General glanced at the mirror, taking note of the Atlantean's arousal. Yeah, he liked it.

Deciding to finish this before the water ran cold, Stryker picked up the pace. Mercilessly assaulted with thrust after thrust, Acheron couldn't keep up. Head spinning, he came a final time, spurting his seed across the glass. Stryker followed after a few more strokes, filling the blonde to the brim. He withdrew, catching the exhausted Hunter as he crumpled to the floor. Programming the shower for spray, Stryker quickly rinsed them both off then half-carried Acheron to the toilet.

Lids heavy with slumber, the Atlantean barely took note of Stryker toweling him off, spreading ointment on his wounds, and wrapping his back with gauze. He didn't even protest as the General picked him up and carried him to bed. Once settled between the sheets, he fell headfirst into sleep, unconsciously snuggling closer to his former enemy in the noonday sun.

* * *

"Well, well, well. Looks like you two had a busy day."

Acheron's eyes snapped open at the sound of the familiar female voice. Shooting upright, he screamed as hot brands of pain split through his lower torso and ass. Yeah, just what he needed to start off the night. Stryker immediately reached out to steady the blonde, helping the Hunter find a comfortable position.

"What the fuck are you doing here Vega," the Daimon growled.

"Oh nothing," the woman seated on the edge of the dresser responded. "Just thought I'd drop off this thank you card from the homeless shelter. They really appreciate the ten grand you donated this morning."

"Huh?"

Vega flicked an envelope at the General, her eyes giving Acheron a quick inspection.

"By the way, you should treat your lovers better Stryker. The poor guy looks like he took a beating. Toodles." She disappeared in a poof of smoke.

Stryker flipped open the letter, reading the brief letter of thanks for his "much needed aid" of ten thousand dollars…the exact amount he had written a check to Vega for his kiss with Acheron. She was supposed to keep the money as payment for setting up his little escapade with the Dark-Hunter, but had donated it instead. Scrawled across the back was a quick note:

_Do I look like I need the money? You couldn't afford_

_my real fees anyways. Consider it a favor_

_between old friends._

_-V_

Chuckling softly, he tucked the note under the clock on his nightstand.

"This isn't funny, you asshole."

"What isn't….woah!" Stryker exclaimed, finding himself in a compromising position beneath his battered lover.

"I am going to make you pay for this," Acheron growled. "When I'm through with you, you won't be able to sit for days, let alone walk."

Oh shit.

* * *

**So, this was supposed to be the final chapter, but now I have to write a scene where Acheron gets "revenge"...aka more marathon sex. So rate, review, and thank you to all who subscribed! Expect a new chapter soon, as well as a new story featuring Valerius in the future. **

**-BotulismFreak**

**P.S.-Thanks to my editor, who nagged me to finish. Also...screw you blondie who wouldn't stop nagging me when I was tired. Here's your smut...shut up.  
**


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